


smitten kitten

by versatiyeol (kaileidohscope)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Bottom Park Chanyeol, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Smut, Top Byun Baekhyun, chanyeol is shy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 14:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11876637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaileidohscope/pseuds/versatiyeol
Summary: Chanyeol is a shy, awkward, quiet college student harboring a secret or two. Baekhyun finds him quite interesting.





	smitten kitten

**Author's Note:**

> I began writing this at first as a joke for my friends Isabelle (@chanyeolliepop) and Sam (@whatiskanye), but it quickly developed into a mushy, fluffy, adorable romcom and I honestly don't know what happened but I'm not mad about it.
> 
> Also, before reading - just a note that 여우 (yeou) means "fox" in Korean.
> 
> Originally titled "Canon in D" after the instrumental composition by German composer, organist, and teacher - Johann Pachelbel.

The cold November air felt something close to knives against Chanyeol’s cheeks, as he whizzed down the bustling streets of Seoul—but it did nothing to deter his long, hurried strides and broad, giddy grin. He’d been waiting three weeks for this moment, therefore a little chill to the air was nothing more than a minor obstacle.

(Then again, Chanyeol had also expected it to be in the mid-seventies throughout the day when he’d thrown on his usual attire – a pair of black skinny jeans and his favorite sweater but apparently the weatherman lied, because by the time he rushed out the door it was somewhere below forty, and his fingers had already gone numb by the time he reached the end of his street.) But at least the post office was relatively close; just a block away.

He swung the entrance door open just far enough for him to slip inside the P.O. foyer, gripping the card-sized slip of paper in both hands as he soaked in the warmth and quietly took his place in line. It was a thirty minute wait; a wait that had him antsy with each slow step forward, until it was finally his turn, and he quickly approached the front counter.

“What can I do for you today, sir?” The clerk on the opposite edge of the counter asked, brows bushy and pushing up towards his hairline, feigning genuine interest. His glasses were thick-rimmed, and his eyes were pretty big, too. Chanyeol smiled awkwardly under the heavy presence of them, offering his postal slip forward.

“I’m here to pick up a package.” He answered, following the slip with his eyes as the clerk held it up and inspected the information scrawled on it. Chanyeol’s hands fidgeted with the sudden lack of something to hold onto.

The clerk read over the slip for an unnecessarily long amount of time (in Chanyeol’s opinion) before finally turning and heading towards the back, mumbling a half hearted “I’ll have your package in a moment” before disappearing, leaving Chanyeol to wait with bated breath.

Finally he would have it. Finally, a little bit more of himself would be complete. _Finally._

It felt like ages before the short clerk finally reappeared, holding a decently sized box in his hands. The sight of it sent Chanyeol’s heart into somersaults. He couldn’t stop the subtle bounce that bubbled in his knees and broad smile that stretched across his face.

“Here you go, sir.” The clerk bid as he handed the package over, which the taller accepted with giddy fervency.

“Yes, thank you!” Chanyeol bowed lightly, already stepping away from the counter before the man was speaking up again.

“It was a pleasure to be of your service. Would you be interested in purchasing any of our decorative stamps?” He asked with what Chanyeol would consider to be dim enthusiasm, motioning towards the vast selection of stamps displayed on the walls behind frames and glass.

Chanyeol gave the array a brief glance over, already in the midst of uttering “No, thank you—” when something caught his eye, and had him back tracking. A cutely designed stamp—with a baby blue backdrop and little black paw prints trailing across the middle. “—actually, I’ll take a set of those.” He pointed toward his desired stamp with a twinkle in his eye.

The clerk gave a curious look; cocked a brow at him, but remained equable as he reached below the counter and pulled out a couple sheets of the puppy print stamps, swooping them over the scanner and tapping a button on the computer keyboard. “That’ll be ₩3500.14.”

Chanyeol dug his wallet out of his backpack, and handed over the cash before taking the stamp sheets into his hands.

The clerk printed out the receipt, “Would you like your change?” and ripped the inked slip free once it was finished, holding it out for the taller.

He took the receipt and crumpled it up into his pocket. “You can keep it.” He dismissed with a smile and bow before happily backing away from the counter, “Thank you!”

  
  
  
  


It seemed the weather had only dropped in degrees by the time Chanyeol reemerged into the streets, the windchill causing him to shiver and bundle his hands into his sleeves. He shrugged his backpack off one shoulder, pulling the zipper open and safely stowing his precious cargo inside before slinging it over his back again.

He couldn’t wait to open it—to feel the softness of the fur and smoothness of the plug. Even more so, he couldn’t wait to try it on; feel how it fit him, and how the ears looked atop his head. His stomach was doing flips just _thinking_ about it.  


The tantalizing smell of brewing coffee and fresh bread caught his nose as he walked along the sidewalk, his lower half stiff like two Popsicles instead of two legs. He migrated towards the scent, head tilted upward as he followed the prominence of it’s warmth and colorful deliciousness. It lead him to a moderately sized cafe, quiet and welcoming with a homey sense and soft lighting. Stamp sheets still in hand, he entered the cafe with no hesitation whatsoever.

The strong coffee scent assaulted his nose, but he wasn’t mad about it at all. It zinged his senses, and the subtle undertone of cookies, breads, and other sweets made up for the bluntness.

He edged his way up to the counter, mouth partially opened as his eyes danced around the seemingly endlessly columns of foods and beverages to choose from. He didn’t even notice the barista waiting behind the bar, dressed in a starched white shirt and pinstriped suspenders, until the little man was speaking up, holding a chipper tonality.

 

“Anything caught your eye?”

Chanyeol startled slightly, blinking as he brought his gaze down to the guy looking at him with a smile. He blanked for a moment, then cleared the slight build up in the back of his throat – tender and chaffed from the cold wind slicing against his windpipe. “Mm...” His eyes flitted over the menu briefly before setting on the barista again. “Any suggestions?”

The man hummed considerably, leaning forward against the bar. He hung his hand in one of his trouser pockets, (and Chanyeol noted, vacantly, that his fingers were very pretty.) A black apron was wrapped snug around his hips, and a matching bandanna was tied loosely around his neck; knotted slightly unevenly. (Chanyeol was only slightly tempted to point it out.)

“Well,” The barista began, recapturing the taller’s attention, “given the current weather, I’d suggest the obvious—hot chocolate, coffee, soup,” A corner of his lips tugged upward, revealing a set of pearly whites. (Chanyeol noted, again, that he had nice cuspids.) He only met the shorter’s eyes again when he realized the man was leaning closer, as if to whisper, so Chanyeol naturally followed suit.) “Personally though, I recommend the cookies. They’re really good.”

Chanyeol made a drawn out noise in understanding, nodding his head as his eyes found the ‘sweets’ section of the menu, scanning through the cookie list.

He missed the way the barista eyed him a little; a subtle tilt to his head as his gaze scanned the taller’s features and downwards—ears, lips, jaw, neck, throat, shoulders, and the curves of his wrists and hands – tucked away and hidden beneath the sleeves of his jumper. His eyes skipped back up when the tall man spoke.

“Mm. I’ll just have a few chocolate chunk ones. And a Caffè Mocha.” Chanyeol decided, focus lingering on the cookie list some moments longer before meeting the barista’s orbs.

“A few?” The shorter asked, brows raising. Something akin to humor twinkled in his eyes as he simpered, “Are you sure you can handle so many? They’re pretty big.”

Chanyeol felt like there was some sort of innuendo hidden in the other’s tone, but merely quirked a hesitant smile and gave an awkward chuckle, looking down towards his sleeve-hands for a second. “How big are they?”

The barista’s small smile broadened a little. Chanyeol chanced a glance at the name tag pinned onto the man’s breast pocket—reading the syllables to himself and wondering how it feel to say them aloud. _Baekhyun._

“Oh, they’re very big.” _Baekhyun_ answered, brow twitching upward as the corners of his lips tugged into a full-blown grin—and now Chanyeol was definitely sure of the innuendo. Maybe it made him flush a little, and maybe his ears burned—but he’d never admit it. Instead, he laughed, and found interest the variety of pastries set out for display to the left of them.

“In that case, I’ll just get one.” Chanyeol chortled, with a tight-lipped smile.

“Just one?” Baekhyun paused, then smiled and smoothly tapped a few buttons on the computer screen in front of him. “How about two for the price of one?” the shorter asked—but it wasn’t much of an option as the barista was already at the opposite counter, placing two giant chocolate chunk cookies in a little baggie. He was back at the register before the taller could really process the arrangement.

Chanyeol smiled in gratitude, rushing to retrieve his wallet from his backpack. To ease the struggle, he freed his hands and placed his puppy print stamps on the counter, tugged his bag off one shoulder, and pulled the zipper. His heart trembled in soft excitement at the sight of his package, but he carefully pushed it aside and retrieved his buried wallet.

“I like your stamps.” Baekhyun commented, and Chanyeol blushed in sheltered embarrassment. He glanced up just enough to get a glimpse of the man’s neck before ducking down again, giving another thankful nod and a timid smile. He heard rather than saw Baekhyun chuckle – the surprisingly warm sound causing him to fumble slightly as he finally retrieved his damned wallet. (He flushed just a shade darker, if possible.) “Now would you like your Caffè Mocha for here or to go?”

“To go.” The answer fell tentatively from Chanyeol’s tongue, because what a shame it would be – to possibly never speak to this man again; this handsome barista. The realization had a strangely wistful feeling settling in his tummy. (He felt stupid for it, really—he didn’t even _know_ this guy for Christ’s sake.)

The subtle disappointment seemed unshared; for Baekhyun merely went about tapping the screen with a pleasant smile and more questions to ask. “All right—and name?”

“Chanyeol.” Chanyeol answered after a moment of unnecessary thought.

“ _Mmkay—_ and phone number?” The barista asked, not missing a beat as he pointedly met the taller’s gaze.

Chanyeol gaped a little. Since when did cafes need your phone number? Unless this was— no. No way. Not possible. No. Actually, it was a _little_ possible—but once he caught sight of Baekhyun’s humorous grin, he ultimately assumed it was, indeed, a joke and played it off with an exaggerated laugh, dismissively going about pulling the cash out of his wallet.

(He missed the way Baekhyun’s eyes lingered a bit; the way a corner of his lips fell a little.)

“All right. Your total is ₩7000.45.”

Chanyeol pulled a few bills from the fold of his wallet, struggling with the coins for several moments too long before finally offering the cash out towards the shorter man. Baekhyun accepted the payment with a curious smile, svelte fingers brushing over his in a manner that could only be described as intentional. Chanyeol overlooked it, though.

“I’ll have your Caffè Mocha ready for you shortly.” Baekhyun chirruped brightly, and Chanyeol stepped back from the counter as the barista went about making his beverage. His movements had no stutters; completely practiced and precise as he swirled a generous amount whipped cream and chocolate sauce over the top before securing a lid on the tall paper cup. He then grabbed a sharpie, using his teeth to pull the cap off as he scrawled the name on the side of the drink and added something a little extra.

 

Chanyeol waited patiently off to the side, quietly fidgeting and avoiding the eyes of those around him. When he noticed Baekhyun approaching the front of the counter again—order in hand—he stepped forth and took his cup with both hands and a timorous smile. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice day, Chanyeol.” The barista smoothly addressed, dazzling simper and all. Chanyeol probably could’ve died, but he thankfully didn’t – instead smiling a little more shakily and ducking his head a bit lower. He managed to exit the coffee shop with no incident, despite clambering towards the door and nearly spilling his blistering hot drink.

(He might’ve heard a laugh coming from behind the counter, but he didn’t dare stay long enough to know for sure.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The elastic held snug around hips, digging into his skin with a slight squeeze. He’d surely have marks later, but that was okay; it’d be worth the temporary indentations. He leaned down to pull up the stockings, tugging the stretchy fabric up and over his knees, coming to about mid-thigh with the assistance of the garter clips – holding them taut and in place.

A pair of lacy panties followed suit; he shimmied them up and under the garter, tucking himself away beneath the pale pink lingerie. His gloves were of a similar shade, just a hue darker and made of soft, fluffy cotton. He wiggled his extradites, the fingerless garment non-restricting to their movements.

The package he’d picked up earlier sat rivetingly at the foot of his bed, opened and inviting; causing his heart to clench with excitement. There were two loose plastic casings already in sight, one a bit more bulbous and obtrusive. He sifted that one aside, instead going for the slightly smaller case. Chanyeol took hold of the zipper tab, decorated prettily with a small ruby stud, and gave it a pull. The casing came open with ease and a smooth glide, revealing a beautiful pair of svelte faux fox ears. He took them delicately into his hands, feeling the softness of their edges and stiffness within. The metal clips mounted at the bottoms were a contrasting smoothness, and he took extra care as he popped one of the clips open and lifted it to the top of his head, catching a few locks of hair to ensure a secure hold, and doing the same with the other side.

Chanyeol took a moment; steadied himself as his eyes closed, feeling the subtle weight of them. Once grounded, his eyes fluttered open with a new found contentment. He padded across the room, kneeling down to tug his treasured record drawer open, the vinyls within ranging from 20’s classics and 80’s hits, to Slipknot and Beethoven. He carded through the selection, dithering every once in awhile despite the fact he only had one in mind.

He slid the record from its cardboard cover as he straightened his posture, setting the cover aside and edging the disk into place atop the player. He moved the tonearm into position, and adjusted the cueing lever.

The first chords of an instrumental track broke the silence, crackling from the record before clearing, unlike the foggy haze that was rapidly blanketing all of Chanyeol’s senses.

Claude Debussy’s “ _Clair De Lune._ ” It resounded powerfully through his bones – making his core ache, and his ligaments tingle. He was so close. But he wasn’t there yet. He still lied incomplete; unsated.

His body migrated back over to his bed, and he tentatively took the bigger case into his hands; feeling the glossy plastic before undoing the zipper, and carefully withdrawing the final piece of himself.

His tail. His puffy, white, silken fox tail. The plug glimmered dully under his bedroom light, the translucent glass bending his bed sheets into a warped blur. His bottle of strawberry scented lube sat idly on the corner of his nightstand, cap already open and waiting.

Chanyeol sat the tail down momentarily as he scuttled around the edge of his bed, snatching the bottle and quickly squirting a small dollop onto the tips of his fingers – careful not to dirty his fuzzy gloves. He then reached behind himself, hooking his thumb under the back of his panties and tugging them down, the lacy garment now bunched below his bottom as he propped himself over the side of his bed; clean hand pressing heavily against the mattress.

He brought his lubed fingers around and pressed his fuzzy-covered palm up to himself, spreading his cheeks as he slowly swept his digits upwards, smearing the slippery substance against his hole. He clenched instinctively, eyeing the tail pug still at the foot of the bed. He leaned forward, pinching the fur at the tip of the tail and dragging it over towards himself. He scrambled for a moment, unsure of what to do with his lubed up hand because he didn’t want to make that big of a mess.

But, concluding the mess would be truly inevitable, he went ahead and wiped it off on the pillow closest to him.

He grabbed a hold of said pillow, then brought one leg up and hoisted himself up onto the bed, shambling into the middle of the bed and positioning the plush pillow between his thighs. He dropped forward onto his elbows, taking the tail by the base of the plug and slowly pressing the tip to his rim. The glass was cold, causing him to jolt with a sudden pulse of arousal. He squirmed a little, wetting his lips and broadening the spread between his knees.

Chanyeol adjusted his hold on the base, bettering his grip before giving it a firm press. The lube aided in the slide, yet there was still a lag of resistance as his hole opposed the invasion — but with one last solid push, the tear-drop plug fell into place; enveloped by his walls and held in place at the skinny stem.

Pure euphoria raked through him in the form of fluttering butterflies. The sensation made him squirm and shift on his knees; his fingers and toes curling as a deep, husky hum vibrated from his chest and his head hung down between his shoulders. The softness of the tail caught slightly against his shins, ticklishly, and caused the plug to cant against his walls in the most goading of ways.

His jaw fell lax as he lifted his head up, closed eyes looking towards the ceiling, and something akin to a whimper squeaked wantonly from his lungs. He started with subtle rocking; the pillow between his thighs causing a pleasurable yet faint pressure against his crotch every time he pushed forwards. He teased himself for a while, keeping a purposely slow pace. The tight lace confined his erection, and also kept the stimulation to an agonizing minimum. (It wasn’t long before the soft pink fabric was soaked with precum.)

He continued like this for close to ten minutes, before finally reaching his limit. Chanyeol re-positioned his cock, unfolding it from the panties so the head peeked out above the waistband, still held taut against his lower stomach, dribbling and warm.

Falling forwards onto his elbows again, he pressed his hips firmly down against the pillow, rutting against it with quick and sloppy thrusts. Whimpers, sighs, and faint grunts escaped him every so often, the sounds slightly muffled against the mattress once his shoulders began to burn and he lowered himself down a bit. His inner thighs ached faintly – unable to spread any wider despite his frantic attempts.

He reached his hand up underneath the pillow, holding it tightly in place as his orgasm raced forth, close close close until it finally uncoiled—and washed over him with white-noise and sparkly stars. His body quaked and trembled, shakily releasing a sigh as cum spilled out all over the bed and pillow – and his panties, but he made no move to stop the mess.

He lied there in the quiet aftermath—the final notes of “ _Clair De Lune_ ” having long since whispered their goodbyes—and enjoyed the softness of his tail against the curves of his ass and the backs of his thighs. He wiggled his hips a little, smiling into the bed as the soft tail edged over and fell off to one side, sending ticklish flutters all up his side.

  


He wasn’t set on moving from his position—that is, until the sweat drying on his skin and the cum all over his stomach, both, became too itchy to bare. From there, real-life settled back in, and the euphoria left his senses. He unclipped his ears, removed his gloves, and carefully extracted his tail. He took extra care in cleaning the plug, making sure it was disinfected and cleaned before zipping it back up into it’s case (along with the ears), and going off into the bathroom to clean himself up.

Just as he’d expected, the panties and garter belt left red lines all the way around his hips as he edged them off, the indentations sore yet satisfying as he rubbed the tenderness of them.  
  


He took his time as he showered; washing thoroughly and using just about all the hot water as his loose muscles soaked in the massaging heat. Once out, he dressed in his favorite One piece pajamas, and set about cleaning the rest of the mess. The duvet was stripped, and the pillowcase was removed – both going into the washer for an overnight wash.

He took the box his new set had come in and set it in the back of his closet, alongside a similarly sized package. He tossed the tube of lube on his nightstand in the closet too as in afterthought.

Exhaustion was setting in quick after being awake all day. He’d gotten up at six to attend his early morning lecture, which had stretched all the way to early afternoon. He could hardly keep his eyes open as he cleaned his dinner dishes, halfheartedly scrubbing them before trudging back to his room and crawling into bed.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Life moved on as it usually did for the next couple weeks. Class, assignments, studying, stress, and very little sleep – the _usual_ . But one little thing was added into the mix. One little detour—a moderately sized cafe, quiet and welcoming with a homey sense and soft lighting. He loved the food and drinks there, and how small and less crowded it was in comparison to the other cafes in the area. It was a humble little place, and more often than not, he went there after class to grab a latte and a cookie, and maybe study a little. The beautiful barista behind the counter was an added bonus.  


The barista—Baekhyun, was maybe one of his favorite distractions. He tried very hard to focus, to pay attention to the words he was reading, to _not_ let his attention wander, but Baekhyun was very good at catching his eye and curbing his focus – whether the man was trying to or not.

Chanyeol somehow always got caught up in the way he swirled together drinks, and the way he tapped the screen of the electronic register, and the way his fingers curled as he handed out change, and the way he knotted the bandana around his neck, and his blinding smile as he greeted customers, and the way he’d scrunch his nose when he laughed, and the way he’d glance over in Chanyeol’s direction—but Chanyeol always ducked back into his work before their eyes could meet, and he’d ignore the soft race in his heart and the heat crawling up his neck.

(And he’d miss the way Baekhyun would stare at him for just a moment or two, then glance away and continue on without a hitch. And smirked to himself, when he noticed Chanyeol in the corner of his eye, watching him yet again – continuing their game of staring tag.)

  


It become apart of Chanyeol’s usual. Go to the cafe, order a latte and a cookie, sit at a table near the back, and get none of his work done. He and Baekhyun didn’t really speak much—maybe the occasional greeting, or a _“thank you”_ and _“you’re welcome”_ , but nothing ever went beyond the point of terse words and obtrusive staring.

Until one evening, when Chanyeol was supposed to be writing a five thousand word essay, and Baekhyun was serving as his best distraction – cleaning off tables, throwing away trash, and sweeping the floor.

Chanyeol noted how good Baekhyun’s pants fit, tight in all the right places and loose in some _others_ – leaving just enough room for the imagination. His imagination had, indeed, just began to wander off when the barista turned in his direction—and Chanyeol glared heavily down at his laptop, pretending to write.

He waited a few moments, then chanced an upward glance, only to have a mini heart attack at the realization that Baekhyun was actually headed towards his table. He scrambled a little, shuffled pointlessly through his papers and straightened his awful posture – anything to look like he was busy, and totally _not_ just thinking about Baekhyun’s crotch and how big he might possibly be and how pretty his fingers must look wrapped around his—

 

“Hi.” Baekhyun greeted softly, smile equally as tender as he stood at the side of Chanyeol’s table, hands hooked behind himself and bandanna knotted crookedly. Chanyeol couldn’t make a sound – might as well have swallowed his own tongue. He gulped around the sudden blockage in his throat, but failed to find his words. Instead, he gave a tremulous smile and reached out to his latte, caressing the side of the cup as if he were about to take a sip.

“Cat got your tongue?” The barista snickered a little, taking it upon himself to slid into the empty seat across from the taller, unaware of the anxious splinter in Chanyeol’s chest, and laced his fingers together on the table between them.

Chanyeol awkwardly shifted his laptop closer to himself, a tight chuckle wheezing out of his throat that sounded more like a cough, loud and out of place. “ _Uhm_ , no—hi.” His lips trembled into a smile before he took hold of his latte and brought it up for an actual sip—nearly spilling it as the bottom curve caught the edge of his laptop screen.

Baekhyun’s smile was steady; calm. He dipped a finger under the bandanna beneath his chin, tugging it askew—or rather, _further_ askew than it had been already, and looked around them. His eyes slotted between the empty tables, tongue peeking out to wet all along his lips to the corner, where Chanyeol noticed a tiny beauty mark faintly above the upper lip. Their gazes met for a single moment before Chanyeol realized he was staring again, and quickly zapped his eyes back to the screen in front of him, where an endless line of ‘s’ was being drawn as he tapped the key hectically.

The barista chortled as Chanyeol set his latte on the table, grip firm as he concentrated on the simple task. A loud silence settled between them, so thick it was basically jello. Chanyeol’s mouth was dry, but there was only one sip left of his latte and he was saving it for a time when his fingers weren’t shaking.

Taking his finger off the ‘s’ key, he moved it to the backspace and began deleting all the lines he’d just created. His heart lurched when Baekhyun spoke up, mellow tone shocking against his strained eardrums.

“I’ve been meaning to return these to you,” Chanyeol blinked as the barista turned in his seat, digging something out of his pocket and sliding it across the table towards him. The taller lowered his laptop screen to see it clearly, and nearly choked on his own spit when he realized that that _something_ was in fact puppy print stamps— _his_ puppy print stamps, the ones he’d bought two and half weeks ago at the post office. “You forgot these on the counter the first time you came in, so I’ve been holding onto them for you. I just hadn’t gotten the chance to give them back.”

Chanyeol closed his laptop, edging it to the side a bit. “Oh—thank you!” He reached out, sliding the sheets the rest of the way to himself with wide eyes. He glanced between them and Baekhyun, “I hadn’t realized I’d lost them.”

“Yeah they’re really cute; I stole one.” The barista said, tapping his finger near one of the corners where a stamp had been peeled off. “I hope you don’t mind,” He added, once Chanyeol actually took note of the missing stamp.

Chanyeol simply stared for a moment, then quickly shook his head, “Oh, no, no, of course not!”

“Oh, good!” The smile that spread across Baekhyun’s face had his heart exploding with bursts of rainbows and glitter and sunshine and warmth and it took all of Chanyeol’s willpower not comment on such a magnificent sight. Not to call it- _him_ , stunning.

A sheepish smile of his own emerged, lifting the apples of his cheeks so high, his face muscles nearly ached. Their gazes met, lingered, and then Chanyeol awkwardly turned his attention away in favor of safely storing his stamps in the front pocket of his backpack. (Because he couldn't bare to hold eye-contact much longer. His heart just wouldn't survive the intensity; the knowledge that Baekhyun--such a beautiful being--was seeing _him_ just as much as _he_ was seeing Baekhyun.)

Baekhyun leaned against the wall that the booth was connected to, peering out into the evening as Chanyeol found interest in his cuticles. The silence was settling in again, and Chanyeol wondered if it wouldn't be too awkward to open his laptop again and hide away from the _social_ _awkwardness_ of this situation by pretending he had work to do.

(But he wanted to talk to the barista. He really did. But words? He couldn't find any. He supposed he had his sip of latte to hide behind.)

“I wasn't joking, you know.” Baekhyun spoke up, quietly at first, then looked at Chanyeol with a steadiness to his gaze, “that day, when I asked for your number.”

Change stared blankly at him, eyes slowly widening as he paused mid-sip. _What?_

“I think you might’ve misunderstood me then, so I wanted to ask again. A little more seriously.” A smile graced the barista’s face.

Chanyeol’s heart fluttered in his throat, and his stomach plummeted to his shoes - and his brain felt like firecrackers. He couldn't believe his ears. All he could do was stare, nonplussed.

“Let's start over, okay?" Chanyeol blinked as Baekhyun straightened himself and brushed his hands down the front of his shirt, smoothing out the creases (but leaving his crooked bandana... crooked. Chanyeol really wanted to fix that.), then, he gave a toothy smile, and extended a hand across the table. "My name is Byun Baekhyun. I'm twenty-two years old, I work here as a barista the majority of the week, and I volunteer at the library downtown on the weekends."

Chanyeol's eyes slowly lowered to the barista's hand. His brain short-circuited, he stared for too many moments, and then finally -- _oh, right_ \-- he sheepishly accepted the handshake, nearly knocking over his latte as he rushed to put it down. (He didn't, though. Thank Mercy.)

Baekhyun's soft smile turned broad and rectangular. A chuckle bubbled in his chest, and the contagious sound of it had Chanyeol tremulously smiling in response despite his current frazzled state of being. Baekhyun's hand was soft. And warm.

There was an obvious correlation between the barista, and soft, and warm.

The barista's eyes shimmered, and his voice came to a gentle, tentative hum- almost bashful. "Well... I think you're very interesting, Chanyeol. I was wondering if... maybe you'd like to trade numbers with me?"

… Interesting? ...Trading numbers? Chanyeol's temperature was surely through the roof at this point - flustered and shy and stammering.

"Oh--yes! I-I mean," he quickly cleared his throat, putting forth a casual front as he combed his fringe with his fingers and glanced indifferently towards the window. "I mean, uh, yeah s- _sure_." He shuffled slightly in his seat, crumbling under the other’s mere presence.

(Baekhyun took notice of the pale pink dusting those unique ears and high cheekbones; of the nervous fidget in his long fingers and the curb in his brow - and, unbeknownst to Chanyeol, the barista found it all quite endearing.)

"Great," Baekhyun beamed pleasantly, then untucked the Sharpie on his breast pocket and a dug a brown napkin out of his apron. He ripped the napkin promptly in two, uncapping the marker and scribbling a string of numbers on one half, then sliding all of it over to Chanyeol.

He stared almost blurry eyed at the numbers scrawled down, the black ink bleeding a little but still readable. That was Baekhyun’s phone number. Holy _shit_. His stomach fluttered madly as looked at the blank napkin-half reserved for his own number, and quickly wrote it down. The numbers came out a little crooked and ugly, like a five-year-old’s, but he'd already shyly slid it (and the Sharpie) to the batista before he'd thought to rewrite it.

Baekhyun held the napkin-half carefully, reading over the digits with a smile nothing short of giddy. He turned his bright grin up to Chanyeol before it faded a little, finger pressing against one of the middle digits. “This is a _5_ , right?”

“Ah-” Chanyeol blushed in embarrassment, sandwiching his hands between his knees under the table. “It's a _3._ ” He mumbled, but Baekhyun didn't laugh or snicker or anything that he'd expected. His smile beautifully re-blossomed as he stood from the booth.

“Okay- noted!” Te barista stored the taller’s number in his breast pocket with a pleased simper on his lips, dashing and handsome as ever as he leaned inward a bit, now stood at the side of the table once more. “Thank you, Chanyeol, -are you finished with that latte cup? I’ll throw it away for you.”

Chanyeol floundered a little before nodding quickly and ducking his head in gratitude when the barista leaned close and took the cup from the table.

His cologne was prominent but not overbearing. A subtle waft of black Teakwood that hugged Chanyeol’s sense for a mere two seconds before the barista was leaning out of his space. It seemed as if he were going to leave before he suddenly snapped his fingers, (slightly startling Chanyeol) and turned back around, “Oh! Before I forget--there's a carnival event going on at the Downtown park this weekend; are you free?”

Chanyeol nearly felt lightheaded. First exchanging numbers, now _this_? What a head rush. He blanked a little bit as he looked into Baekhyun’s eyes, finding his pupils quite deep and his irises a nice coffee brown.

“Uh, no I'm, I-I mean, yeah I'm free, I don't- no, no plans.”

Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled like tiny constellations. “Would you wanna come with me?”

It didn't take Chanyeol a moment to stammer out “ _yeah, sure_ ”, but it felt like it’d taken an eternity for him to find his voice.

Baekhyun brightened, radiantly. “Awesome! I'll text you, ok?”

Chanyeol didn’t bother with words this time, instead just smiling wide and nodding. Baekhyun’s smile brightened even more (if possible) and he nodded as well.

“Cool; it's a date.” He cooed, and let his attention pointedly linger as he tossed Chanyeol’s latte cup in the nearest bin.

Chanyeol watched with cold sweat down his back and heat beneath his collar, waiting until Baekhyun had disappeared into the back rooms before smushing his smile into his hands and hardly withholding a yell.

And like that, he'd somehow earned a date with Byun Baekhyun - his favorite café distraction.

 


End file.
